


Sweet, Sweet Chaos

by Amethyst_owl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Littlefinger - Freeform, Lord Baelish, Other, Petyr x Reader, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_owl/pseuds/Amethyst_owl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Y/N, have I ever told you about chaos?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet, Sweet Chaos

The curtains flap languidly in the breeze. Lord Baelish runs a thin finger along the curve of your naked body, making your skin tingle. Somewhere nearby people are fighting in the streets, and you can hear the curses they’re throwing about.

"Y/N" Petyr purrs, tracing circles over your hips and waist "Have I ever told you about chaos?"

"No, Lord Baelish" You smile softly as his fingers dance expertly across your skin. You have heard his words before, but the mention of chaos - the quiet excitement in his voice - sets your heart aflame.

"Chaos, sweetling - Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again." You cannot see his face, but you can tell that he is smiling to himself, relishing the thought. "The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb. They refuse, they cling to the realm or the gods or…" His lips graze your ear, light as a feather "…Love. Illusions, my sweetling. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is."

"Wise words, my lord." You say, rolling over to face him. He half-sits, half-lies on the bed next to you, propped up on one arm with the other resting on your hip. The soft afternoon light makes him even more handsome, you realise.

"Oh, Y/N, you flatter me so." His green eyes shine like emeralds as he leans close, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The sides of his mouth curve into a smile - genuine and passionate, for once. There is no sign of the practised, mechanical smile of the man known as Littlefinger - only longing and temptation. Your hand caresses his face, reaching up into the greying hair at his temples and trailing down to his soft, sweet lips.

Lips that soon claim yours, with gentle force and quiet moans. Lust and longing fill your heart, burning as it rushes through your body. His touch is exquisite, and he smells like mint and soap, like wine and magnificence. He smiles again, and takes your lip between his teeth, biting it softly. You pull away suddenly, and he seems almost hurt.

"Y/N" He whispers breathlessly "Why did you—" You press a finger to his lips, finding his hip with your other hand and pulling him closer. He straddles you, the heavy material of his clothing brushing against your legs and the smile returning to his face. His body presses against yours, every inch of him within your grasp as you begin to unfasten the clasps of his robes. His lips are brushing against your throat, leaving a trail of kisses. He looks up, and you see the desire in his eyes.

"I shall show you chaos of my own, Lord Baelish." You smirk, slipping the heavy robe from his shoulders "Sweet, sweet chaos."


End file.
